Written September 3, 2018

Labor Day
    For us Labor Day was a melancholy holiday. It meant the end of our pool and BBQ season, the end of Jones Beach #9, the end of Sunken Meadow State Park. If you didn't know my fathers BBQ's they were legendary. Not like Texas BBQ or smoked BBQ, but Harold's (latter Hal's) BBQ. After years of testing and tasting and gleaning off the cook books dad began to buy, he'd come up with a BBQ sauce to end all BBQ sauces. He kept a great big jar in the refrigerator adding to it each season. It couldn't go bad there was so much vinegar, sugar, soy sauce and who knows what, that it was self preserved. It was an Orange-ish, golden-ish, apricot-ish color. BBQ for us were hamburgers, hotdogs, ribs and or chicken. Macaroni salad, potato salad, 3 bean salad, sauerkraut and pickles. Sometimes coleslaw and in season corn. Dad would marinate his chicken/ribs over night in bowls and the the great big ziplock bags when they came out. He had two bbq's one gas one coals. He'd be there snapping his giant tongs, tending his meats in his bathing suit, squinting through the smoke opening and closing the lids on the grills. When he had a few minutes he'd throw himself in the above ground pool for a dip. All the salad stuff would be in their containers with the condiments placed on the glass topped dining table on our concrete block patio that he built himself. Those blocks were 6" thick and 4x4 each, he tinted each one a different color with a powdered dye as he hand mixed that concrete and poured it into homemade forms. He built them one at a time in place as they were too massive to move. With the redwood furniture they collected thought the years and the beautiful metal furniture from my grandparents our back yard was transformed into a resort. There was a Badminton net we also used for Volleyball and the "Fruit" trees dad had planted. Sour apples, Crab apples, Cherry, Birch by the patio, Silver Maple, Azaleas, Rhododendrons and his kitchen garden.
    The man was not lazy. Mom was. She didn't lift a finger but to go to her job, and occasionally food shop was her contribution. He did it all. Cooking cleaning entertaining, sewing and laundry (after we moved out). He was a born sales man not often successful, enough to keep us solvent but he had an uphill battle from day one poor guy. His skill set was terrific considering he grew up in apartments after my grandparents lost their Brownstone in Brooklyn to "The Crash". He could fix or Gerry rig anything.
    His father and mother were both bookkeepers, they were white collar workers who made good money for awhile investing et&c. They had become fairly wealthy when dad was a little but my grandfather was not a good businessman and it didn't last. My mothers family was a mix of blue and white collar. Several of my Great Aunts and Uncles belonged to Unions, some in the trucking industry, some in the garment industry. Their fortunes ran the gamete but if anyone needed anything they were right there for each other. with 14 children my Great Grandmother was quite the manager. Mollie also known as Mollish, ruled with a velvet hammer.
    When each child got a job they handed over their paycheck to mama and she doled out an allowance for them. That money made money and when each child got married there was bedroom furniture, kitchen outfitted and some cash to get them started. each one received the same provisions from out of Bubbies pot of money. Four of my Greats never married and they took that money and bought Bubbie a new house and they lived with her taking care of her. They made that home a showplace and the gathering spot for the whole extended family.
    My best memories revolve around those BBQ's, our holiday's and my Great Aunts and Uncles at Bubbies house. Our fall season began with our religious holidays, depending on the year anywhere from the beginning of September to October. So today, I have that melancholy feeling, although it's likely to be well over 100 degrees today, in my mind it;s the last day of summer. No BBQ, no sounds of my siblings and our family enjoying our last splash's and season in our backyard sanctuary. No more having my dad chasing us with the garden hose or snapping hos tings at us with his cheeky grin.